John Lindsey makes you a baseball fan again. He takes any indifferent emotions that might’ve developed over the years and returns them to those of a rooting interest.
Sports Columns
Think of this as your child’s first impression of kindergarten: You get the little one dressed all nice and sweet for the big transition from home to more formal schooling. Spider-Man backpack. SpongeBob lunch box. The works.
A former colleague had this adage by which he would define our profession.
Less than a month ago, Mine That Bird and Rachel Alexandra could have walked into the Churchill Downs paddock drawing barely a glance. Now they are horse racing’s two biggest celebrities.
Matt Snodgrass is most alive on a golf course, after seven brain tumors and all the radiation and chemotherapy that goes with them. He turns 21 on May 29, when for a second year he will host a golf tournament to benefit his condition and other young people fighting cancer.
The sun hadn’t been up long, but there already were a couple of anglers on the water when Dallin, my eldest son, and I pulled into the parking lot. At the launch ramp, two fly-fishermen busied themselves with preparing their float tubes and other gear for a day on Haymeadow Reservoir, one of three popular fishing waters at the Kirch Wildlife Management Area — Sunnyside to old-timers.
This time of year arrives and Buddy Gouldsmith takes a stroll across hot coals, a tradition becoming more and more hazardous with UNLV’s latest losing baseball season.
There are two chances of seeing a bid for the Triple Crown this year: slim and none. No one I know picked Mine That Bird to win the Kentucky Derby, and only a couple of redboarders after the race insist they liked him.
You can sugarcoat certain things in life. How you answer that question from your significant other about her weight. Cheering your child’s few perfect notes among all the missed ones at the piano recital. Faking confidence when telling your employees about the company’s financial stability.
Damn unknown. It always feeds our worst fears. It has this way of appearing at the most unfair times. Kayla Griffith knows of it, and it frightens her.
It would be easier if you could just go George Costanza on a hitter and throw the opposite of what you believe to be the best pitch. But baseball doesn’t work that way.
His father won an AFC Championship with the New England Patriots and yet he has seen the commemorative ring twice. It might be just once. No one thinks about it all that much.
